


Are You Gay?

by GoldenAceCard



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: (Obviously), Children are whack, Fluff, Gay, M/M, Rosie is adorable and innocent, Rosie is in Year 3, post-Mary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-28 21:24:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20432678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenAceCard/pseuds/GoldenAceCard
Summary: Some boys at school called Rosie "Gay." She doesn't exactly know what that means, but maybe her dad does?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a post by atikiology on Tumblr, I don't know how to bring the link over I'm sorry D':

Rosie jumped off the last step of the school bus, landing squarely on the concrete. Her black and yellow backpack made a soft clink sound with the metal charms clipped on the zipper shifting. She glanced around the stop and spotted her dad tapping out a message on his phone by the telephone pole on the corner. Rosie ran over and tackled him with a hug, John nearly dropping the device in surprise.

He chuckled. "How was your day?" he asked, taking her hand and walking down the street towards home. Rosie launched into a full explanation, new things she learned, what she did, how boring all the simple math lessons were (Sherlock's influence, definitely). She did, however, make a new friend with a boy who was struggling with the course -- she had happily helped him out.

"Hey dad?" Rosie asked, opening the front door and tossing her bag on the coffee table. She plopped in a chair at the kitchen table and picked up a small bundle of grapes from the bowl.

"Yes, dear?" John put on the kettle, pulling down a mug for an after-work cup of tea.

"What does 'gay' mean?" She pulled a grape off the stem.

John laughed lightly, turned, and leaned on the counter, listening to the water behind him nearing its boiling point. "Where'd you hear that today?"

"We were playing football in class today. I kicked the ball into the goal and a kid on the other team called me gay, then the teacher took him off the field." Rosie twisted at a piece of grape stem, looking unsure and a little sadly at the floor. "Is it a bad thing? Mr. Sunnier didn't say anything but I didn't ask."

With a click the kettle finished boiling. John, mouth quirking down slightly, poured the water into his army mug and sat across from her, tea steeping. "No, it's not a bad thing. Though some people might see it that way, unfortunately," John smiled softly at Rosie, "when a boy likes another boy, or a girl likes another girl, it's called gay."

The little girl paused and processed, "like... _like_ like?"

"Yes, _like_ like."

Rosie leaned forward and whispered rather loudly in the quiet room, "can you still get cooties from them?"

John laughed and took a sip from his mug, "I don't know about that."

"Can someone like both boys _and_ girls?"

John nodded, "someone who likes girls and boys would be bisexual." She gave a small 'oh' of understanding and sat back in the wooden chair, eating a few more grapes thoughtfully and examining the pile of papers and medical equipment at the end of the table. John hadn't put everything back into his stay-at-home medicine bag yet, having taken it out this morning when his daughter kept asking what everything was with bottomless curiosity. She was fascinated by the different tools, what they did, how they worked. After a few minutes of silence and observing every detail of each supply, Rosie spoke up again.

"Dad... is Sherlock gay?" John, mid-sip, started and coughed on the hot drink. Rosie only tilted her head curiously and John noticed a startling resemblance between her expression now and Sherlock's face as he was making his deductions, picking apart a stranger's life story thoroughly with a glance.

He cleared his throat and set the mug down, elbows on the table and hands folded out in front. "Sherlock is... a complicated man," he began, carefully choosing words that would provide Rosie with the only answer John could actually figure out after years of living with the detective. "A long time ago, when we'd first met, he mentioned being 'married to his work,' but I know he's changed since then. One time he received 57 texts from a woman and never replied, so maybe... To my knowledge he's never even _had_ a real girlfriend or boyfriend, but then again..." John kept talking, struggling to pinpoint exactly what to call Sherlock. Rosie listened patiently, still with the same Sherlock-like expression, as she processed what he said. Essentially, everything John said boiled down to "I don't know, nor does anyone else really." John felt a little shock with his actual lack of knowledge on this, despite knowing the man for _years._

When her dad finished, taking a long sip from his tea, Rosie gave him one final knowing look, nodded contentedly, and ate the last grape on the stem. She tossed the remains into the plant pot on the window sill (an easy fertilizer for the small blue flower just beginning to blossom) and walked over to the couch. Zipping the bee and flower charms on her bag, she grabbed the red folder out and removed her English assignment. "Could you help me with my homework, dad?" she asked.

John smiled and came over with his cup, sitting on the seat next to his daughter and looking over the paper.

~~~

Sherlock sat criss-cross in his armchair in 221B, computer on his lap and tea on the stand to his left. He was working on another post for his blog, something of flowers and identifying a gardener, florist, and field botanist from one another. John was sat across from him in his chair holding a book and his second cuppa of the day (Mrs. Hudson had set out three cups and a plate of biscuits for the trio). Rosie had her own book, "Science Wide Open: Women in Chemistry," a gift from Molly about women in different science careers. She lay on the floor by the fireplace with her bee plushie, the occasional paper turns from her and her father's books being the only sound breaking the silence.

Visits to Baker Street went one of two ways, this being the more peaceful, content option: a comfortable silence or light conversation, usually featuring a life-update and commonly including Mrs. Hudson popping up for a hello. The other type of visit, however, involved one of Sherlock's experiments (varying in danger day-to-day), Rosie asking endless questions with endless curiosity about said experiment, and John pinching the bridge of his nose as something fell, shattered, or exploded unexpectedly. 

Rosie looked up from her book around the quiet room; At Sherlock, her dad, the knife stuck in the wall near the yellow smiley (it had been there before John and Rosie had arrived), and around again. She nibbled at a biscuit thoughtfully, turning to look up towards the detective, and asked, "Sherlock, are you gay?"

The man in question didn't even glance up from his screen, "yes."

For the second time that day, John choked on his tea.


	2. I'm Not Gay!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is, in fact, gay.

"Please be careful John, Mrs. Hudson would hate for a messy carpet," Sherlock peered at him over his computer screen, eyes steady, calculating, _analyzing_, with the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

John set his cup aside, keeping the book safely away from the threat of a tea stain. "Yes, sorry," he cleared his throat and stared around the room, not entirely focused on his novel anymore. "Sorry what?" he blurted.

Sherlock, not bothering to acknowledge the question, looked back down at the keyboard, (annoyingly) unfazed by John's reaction. He typed up a brief conclusion to the post he'd been at before uploading it and shutting the lid.

Walking into the kitchen, he opened the freezer and pulled out an opaque blue bin with a lid and no label. Sherlock lifted the top to expose a bowl of indigo, semi-frozen gel and several cold bottles containing various chemicals. "Dr. Rosamund Watson!" he called.

Rosie immediately shut her book and set it on the floor, putting the bumblebee plushie with it. She grinned and jumped up enthusiastically, rushing into the kitchen to don her small white lab coat and goggles Sherlock had provided her when she'd first started getting curious about why there was a hand on ice in the refrigerator -- 'It's for an experiment, John!' 'That doesn't mean Rosie should be holding a syringe!' 'She wanted to help!'

She peeked into the container now, standing on a short stool to give her height. Sherlock was busy smearing a sample on a microscope slide, explaining what they mystery mixture was and what it did. He added a few drops of a yellow liquid from the vial, making it fizz and turn white. Rosie immediately burst into a frenzy of questions, all of which Sherlock answered patiently with a smile on his face; he always enjoyed teaching Rosie's chemistry lessons despite John's hesitant disapproval -- which was understandable, given the madman currently holding a bottle of something that 'was only 7% diluted arsenic, with several catalyst compounds'.

John, suddenly realizing where he was and what was happening, shook out of his stupor and stood, setting his book on the cushion. "Sherlock."

"Could you pass me the knife, John?" the detective-now-chemist asked. Rosie held a pipette, watching wide-eyed at the ivory and violet hues swirling together. Sherlock took the slide from her and put it under the light scope, leaning down to look through the lens.

John paused and blanked at him before turning towards the yellow smiley. He crossed the room and pulled the short dagger out of the wall -- Mrs. Hudson would be fuming at the torn up wallpaper later. He walked back over and set the weapon down. "Thank you," Sherlock said briefly, grabbing it a driving the end into the already damaged table. He finished adjusting the focus on his microscope, gazing at the sample briefly before messing up the calibration again. "Rosie, do you remember how to focus it like last time?"

"Yup!" Sherlock moved out of the way, Rosie standing up where he had been and peering through the glass (she couldn't sit down and look, still not tall enough).

"Sherlock," John repeated. 

"Yes?" He turned to look at the doctor now, who'd moved across the table from him and Rosie. He was gripping a chair with both hands in front of him.

John paused, staring at Sherlock with his mouth parted slightly in thought. "...Nothing," he decided. He looked away to his right towards... something, anywhere but at Sherlock's deductive gaze, actually.

"Really, John, it was _fairly _obvious wasn't it?"

He turned back, "I asked you directly, you said you weren't."

"When?" he challenged.

John opened his mouth to answer, then promptly shut it. He realized, with no small amount of shock, that Sherlock hadn't ever denied being gay. It was always more of a gloss-over response, usually involving a triple homicide or psychopathic killer taking priority and the subject dropped. John never thought to simply ask directly.

"Rosie," Sherlock called her attention from where she'd been adjusting the fine knob on the microscope. A lock of blonde hair fell loose from where it was tied back, falling over her eyes. She pushed it away. "What can we deduce about your father?"

John quirked his head in confused annoyance at Sherlock, "what are you doing?"

"Her deduction skills have been rapidly improving for her age, John."

John was looking at Sherlock, same expression on his face. Rosie and Sherlock were both looking back at him with that eerily similar face, though Sherlock's was a bit more smug. Finally Rosie let out a quiet 'ah' of realization.

Sherlock turned towards the sound, "got it then?" She nodded.

He turned back to John. "Have you got it too?"

John scoffed and shook his head in that I-only-kinda-see-what-you're-doing-but-I-still-don't-LIKE-IT way. "No, care to explain?"

"Rosie?" he prompted. 

John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Sherlock, for the last time, I'm not gay!"

"But dad," Rosie chimed in, "you said someone can like girls _and _boys. That's called bisectual."

"Bisexual," Sherlock corrected.

"Right."

John stood, looking back and forth between his daughter and best friend, lips parted and gears in his brain whirring. Maybe they weren't so much whirring as they were grinding in confusion as pieces of the puzzle refused to click together. Rosie had turned back to adjusting the microscope, but Sherlock still had the _damned smug look on his face_. He was looking at John, seemingly through his eyes and into his mind. It was almost as if he was watching the sprockets in his head spin and process, and it was _incredibly_ frustrating.

The doctor scoffed again. "How long?-"

"Since day one, Watson." Sherlock's look had dropped, now evidently more casual, "though you hadn't known yet, of course, so I didn't bother pointing it out." His eyebrows knitted together. Not casual, _sympathetic_ \-- very un-Sherlock in John's opinion. "I never wanted to pressure you."

John couldn't help but notice the tone shift; from pretentious and smug to... this... whatever it was. All he could do was stare, making eye contact with Sherlock for God knows how long. The detective stared back, something swirling in his eyes, something that was just behind cognitive recognition. John watched it, tracked it, studied it, and came up with nothing. He blinked.

Rosie, long since finished with the microscope's calibration, looked up at the pair. She scanned her father, then her godfather, both of them not saying a word, and sighed. In her small voice she broke the two out of their reverie, "Sherlock, Jack's birthday is tomorrow, his mom is picking me and some other school kids up. It's a sleepover party, so my dad wanted to know if you'd go to dinner with him that night."

Sherlock looked at Rosie, then back at John. A smile lit up his face, "I'd love to, Dr. Watson, say 6:00, Angelo's?"

John smiled back and nodded his answer, pausing before chuckling, "you were right."

"I know that much, but what about?" Back to cocky it seemed, yet John found it secretly endearing at the moment. He shook his head and grinned.

"Rosie's deduction skills are rapidly improving."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's ur Part 2, likely no Part 3 coming up but stay tuned for some fun and fresh Johnlock content! I'll definitely be writing some more stuff here, I kinda like this platform y'know?
> 
> Also one lil' note/disclaimer that I mentioned in Part 1, this prompt wasn't mine! I got my inspiration from aforementioned Tumblr user last chapter (part 2 was my own, but I built off the original half so ehhhhh we'll take it). Anyway, that's all, thanks!

**Author's Note:**

> My first Ao3 fic, but not my first-ever fan story! Hope you enjoyed :D
> 
> Sorry if the story appears strangely on your screen, I'm new to the platform and don't exactly know to work it properly yet. I'll figure it out w time probably maybe. Also dunno about a part 2, would you want a part 2? Idk where I'd go with a part 2... maybe if I had an idea for part 2 I'd do a part 2.


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